


Brother's Interlude

by blockgirlz



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Ouch, content warning for (character?) death, deadbur lol, im just SAD i MISS HIM!!, no romantic relationships!!!!, ventfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:08:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blockgirlz/pseuds/blockgirlz
Summary: "i miss him so much, tubbo. i miss my brother."— or,the life after death- the ruins wilbur left in his wake.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 93





	Brother's Interlude

**Author's Note:**

> short ventfic bc ghostbur makes me sob yeah yeah

Tommy inhaled, his nose runny in the chilling atmosphere. He clenched his jaw to stop from shivering and he was sure his bone marrow had turned to icicles.

He felt wrong here. Not that he'd felt  _ right _ in a long time- not since the era of peace, of unbroken families and youthful hope that had since been slapped off his face. Looking at the newly chopped wood that covered the crater of what once was, his stomach lurched. It'd only been a few days, and yet the land was on its way to recovery. The rubble had been swept away and the owls were saying their prayers to the night sky and starry gods. How could everything move on? How could the Earth continue to spin, with Wilbur's soul no longer wandering it?

Tommy took a stumbling step back, the joints of his knees weak and cold. This wasn't right. A tight cough inflated within his chest, and suddenly he felt dizzy with the inhalation of smoke that hovered over them all from the great explosion.

Tommy didn't deserve to be the one standing there, alive, not any more than Wilbur had. Wilbur would never be able to experience the wind on his face, breathing in the air, to feel the taste of victory on his tongue. He'd never split a loaf of bread with Niki ever again, laughing over jokes that always seemed to belong to them, solely. He'd never see Fundy grow up, spar with Techno, make Tubbo laugh- he'd never again hug Phil. He'd never be by Tommy's side, not anymore. Maybe Wilbur had died a long time ago, when he threw all of that away.

Tommy turned on his heel, and walked away.

It was the dead of the night when Tommy wandered back to Pogtopia- technically, his home. Emotionally, his hell.

He hadn't seen Techno since the war, since he packed his trident and emeralds and left before that nightfall. He hadn't seen Philza, either. Maybe that was for the best.

The ravine walls were cold and lonely. His arm brushed against the wall as he descended the stairs, loose rocks cascading down with each step. He stopped to watch a couple as they hit the ground and shattered into useless pebbles.

Tubbo had shoved an old mattress into the Pit- which still brought nausea to Tommy- awhile ago, where he'd sleep from time to time. Tommy assumed he would move out sooner or later, probably to a new house in the heart of  _ L'manberg.  _ He was what had to keep it beating, after all.

Laying there, in the dingy ravine with absolutely no insulation, asleep on a shitty mattress, he didn't look presidential. He looked tired, and injured. He looked older. When had that happened?

_ The first war, or the second?  _ Tommy thought bitterly, and he only blamed himself.

_ "Tommy?" _

Tommy smiled, old leather boots scraping the floor and he made a seat on the mattress beside his best friend. "Hey, Tubbo."

Tubbo's voice was scratched and worn, and he rushed urgently, "Are you okay? Is something happening?"

"No, no, everything's.. okay. Sorry to wake you."

Tubbo sat up, rubbing his knuckles into his eyes. The bags under his eyes shouldn't belong there, and Tommy felt like crying. "You sure? What time is it?"

"Late."

"Oh." Tubbo's gaze fell somewhere in the empty space in front of him. His hair almost stuck completely up in the back. If Wilbur was here, he'd make fun of Tubbo's bedhead.

He would say something along the lines of, "You absolutely look like you tumbled down a hill." Tubbo would roll his eyes and groan, shooting back something on Wilbur's own choice of hairstyle.

There was one time, when they were younger, just kids, and Tubbo had tripped on the side of a hill. Wilbur had rushed to his side, brushing the pebbles off his knees and bandaging his scrapes.

For the first time, since Techno summoned the Withers, since he saw his country be blown to smithereens, since he witnessed the death of his brother, Tommy cried.

Wordlessly, Tubbo took him into a hug. Was it wordlessly? He couldn't hear much but his own heartbeat, like he was underwater. Like he was watching himself, crumbling. Maybe he could fly away from his body, where he cried pathetically into Tubbo's shoulder. He could watch his country live on from above- maybe he'd run into Wilbur.

"I miss him so much, Tubbo. I miss my brother."

Tubbo's chest rose. He kept the oxygen in his lungs until it went stale, and exhaled a shaky breath. Was he crying, too?

Tommy sunk back to reality. "I do too, Tommy. I do too."


End file.
